Where I Used To Have A Heart
by Teris Xenite
Summary: AU Mirrorverse What would it take to make McCoy into a monster? Former oneshot. Not a part of Through A Mirror Darkly.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I own nothing interesting. All I've got is my bones, must be why I like McCoy so much.

AN: My take on what might have happened if he hadn't had Jim to protect him from all those other captains who wanted him on graduation. Since it's me do I really need to mention that this is mirror verse and dark as sin? I only managed to keep it under an NC-17 because I really, really can't stomach writing out a detailed violation of a child. If you're scared of the dark head the other way.

Where I Used to Have a Heart

Teris Xenite

McCoy remembers distantly a time that the screaming ensign beneath his hands would have disturbed him. Remembers a time when the order to flay the pretty young thing beneath him would have been answered with a 'fuck you, sir'. He remembers those days like one would a dream long faded, like it was someone else's life or a movie he saw, it didn't feel real. But those days are long past, and the only thing holding him to humanity is light years away, kept safe in the pristine world of rural Georgia, by his very willingness to do things like this.

As he cuts he remembers the whispered words of his captain during his 'training'. Remembers the look of terror in the girl's eyes, as the captain so very slowly allowed his hands to run over and into sensitive, delicate places. Remembers the promise that if he looks away or flinches that the captain will take his time, and draw out the girl's agony. Remembers how she screamed and begged before the end, while he sat bound and powerless to help her. He especially remembers the warning he received as the still twitching corpse was thrown at his feet. He remembers the promise that if he ever balked at an order to use his skills for the empire again, the captain would be making a visit to Georgia on his next shore leave, and bringing back something very special for the crews' entertainment.

And so he'd become the poster boy of the Empire as far as torture was concerned. He became cold, distant, and spent most of his off duty hours in a drunken haze for the first six months of his tour of duty on the Farragut. He'd spent a three day shore leave in his quarters puking his guts out when he realized that he'd come to enjoy hearing the screams. But he tortured everyone that they asked him to. He killed anyone that the captain ordered him to. And if in the end the captain had died on his table for the threat he'd made against his child, well then so much the better.

Later when his gloves have been taken off, the blood scrubbed away, he looks down at the crumpled missive in his hand, transfer orders, destination I.S.S. Enterprise. He supposes it was meant as a reward for his 'good work', but it still in the deepest part of him he felt the sting of realization that he'd become a walking violation of every oath he'd once held sacred. And that scared him more than the fact that Jocelyn had actually been afraid of him the last time he'd threatened her if she tried to keep Joanna away from him again.

He knew of the Enterprise, of course he did. Everyone in the empire knew about the Enterprise. Just like everyone knew that James T. Kirk was a vicious son of a bitch, who singlehandedly did more to terrify the alien worlds that the Empire sought dominion over than entire crews of other officers. From everything that McCoy could gather, Kirk was the living personification of every evil thing that lived in the darkness waiting to take a taste of you.

And he'd requested Leonard McCoy's transfer onto his ship personally apparently. As he stepped onto the transporter pad, he felt something break inside of him, the last vestige of hope that someday, somewhere he could be a good and decent man fading away like the utilitarian walls of the Farragut. As Kirk shook his hand as he granted him permission to board his vessel, he felt a heavy ache settle within him. He felt a lingering cold, a hollowness that had nothing to do with space, sink all the way down to his bones.

AN: This is what my brain came up with to explain the difference between my Through A Mirror Darkly McCoy, and the more bad assed McCoy that some of the other talented Mirror verse authors favor. I can easily see how McCoy could go down that path, hence this little ditty. I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to hearing what y'all think of a darker McCoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I own nothing interesting. All I've got is my bones, must be why I like McCoy so much.

AN: Apparently I am incapable of writing a one shot for these two. But this Kirk wanted to get his hands on his McCoy, and who am I to say no to Kirk?

Where I Used to Have a Heart

Teris Xenite

Kirk watched the man in the agony booth twitch and moan with little interest. There was hardly anything exciting about another fool who'd been stupid enough to try to kill him. Instead he found himself fascinated by his new chief physician. The man was an enigma. He'd gone from a brilliant doctor with a reputation for being soft, to letting his former captain bleed out underneath his very skilled hands. Now he stood watching the proceedings with feigned interest. He'd come to every torture session since he'd been onboard. Yet a look at his pants, which were far too tight to hide any physical response, proved that it wasn't personal gratification that brought him here.

Kirk had a theory. And though testing it might prove dangerous if he'd read McCoy wrong, he hadn't become Captain of the Empire's flagship by being easily dissuaded by danger. He sauntered up beside McCoy, and leaned closely into his personal space. "Enjoying the show doctor?" He watched the minuscule twitch in McCoy's jaw and felt a growing certainty about the judgment the he had made earlier. "It doesn't look like you are." He noticed the involuntary hitch in McCoy's breathing, and read it as surprise.

"Relax, you cover it well enough, most of the crew wouldn't have given it a second thought. But it's my job to be able to read my crew, and it doesn't look like you're having a good time. It's not a problem, it's just rather curious that you've attended all of the interrogations since you've been on ship if you don't enjoy them?"

McCoy looked at him, shoulders tense and eyes guarded. "Attending interrogations was a part of my duties on the Farragut, sir."

Kirk smiled, and gestured towards the door. "I think you'll find doctor, that your duties on my ship are far less onerous. I prefer to save observation of such spectacles as a reward for those who appreciate them, not use them as a punishment for those who find them distasteful. I've got a good bottle of bourbon back in my quarters, why don't you join me for a drink?"

McCoy considered the offer, while the tone was friendly, there was little chance that Kirk would take a refusal well. "Well now, who am I to turn down such hospitality? Shall we?"

Kirk nodded, and gestured to the man running the agony booth. "If he lives till morning, take him to the brig, I'll deal with him later." The ensign nodded, and Kirk nodded towards the door. "Well that takes care of my business here, why don't we see about that drink?"

McCoy carefully kept the distaste from his face as he made his way to Kirk's quarters. He knew that he was being closely observed, as he felt Kirk's gaze heavily on his back. On the time that he'd been aboard the Enterprise, he hadn't heard tell of the captain bedding any members of his crew, but it could be that Kirk was just less obvious about it than his former, departed captain. Still, if that was what Kirk was looking for here, he could do worse, and had truth be told.

Compared to some of the things he'd done to keep his baby safe, this probably wouldn't be that bad. Kirk wasn't that hard on the eyes, and none of his bedmates had shown up in Med Bay or gone missing. He had a reputation for not abiding stupidity, but other than that wasn't known to be excessively sadistic with his crew. The alien races they conquered, yeah those he was an absolute bastard to. But as a general rule the punishments that McCoy had observed since he'd been on ship didn't cross the line into overtly sadistic. Kirk ran a tight ship, and expected his orders to be obeyed instantly and without question. But so far none of the orders that he'd given McCoy had been anything but medical. He hadn't been asked to torture, ordered to his knees, or asked to dispose of the disobedient. He wondered idly if this was the night that changed.

The door to Kirk's quarters opened at his command, and McCoy followed him into the sitting room and took a seat where Kirk indicated. After a moment Kirk returned with a sealed bottle of bourbon and two glasses, which he sat on the table between them before he settled into a chair across from McCoy. His posture was relaxed, and his facial expressions were neutral, but McCoy knew that could be deceptive. His eyes searched McCoy's face, and he did his damnest not to squirm under the scrutiny. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to McCoy, Kirk's lips quirked up in a slight grin and he broke the tense silence that hung between them.

"I'm sure you wondered why I asked you here tonight. I'd tell you to relax, but you don't strike me as stupid, so I doubt it'd do me much good. I've been watching you since you came on my ship McCoy, and rest assured, I have no complaints about your performance. But I can tell your heart isn't necessarily in it." Seeing the panic rising on McCoy's face against his will, Kirk continued quickly. "There is no need for you to be frightened, doctor. I only want to discuss your duties on my ship."

"I've looked over your file McCoy, and I've got a pretty good idea on how you went from being a bleeding heart to one of the best torturers in the fleet. You weren't the only one with a reputation on board that ship. Your former captain was well known for his sadism, and his flexibility of morals. So I'm guessing after he put your stubborn ass in the agony booth a few times for saying 'fuck you, sir', that he stepped things up and started making threats against your little girl. Am I right?"

McCoy felt his heart seize when mention of his little girl crossed Kirk's lips. Trying desperately not to react, not to give him a clue that he was absolutely terrified about Kirk knowing his greatest weakness he said as casually as possible. "And you think I would tell you if you were, because?"

"There's no need to really, your eyes gave it away doctor." Kirk reached over and opened the bourbon, poured each of them a drink, and nudged McCoy's glass towards him. "Now before you do anything stupid that will end up with you taking Ensign Stone's place in the agony booth, hear me out."

He took a sip of the bourbon, and waited for McCoy to still before he continued. "Now doctor, first off let me say, your former captain was an idiot. I don't share his stance on discipline with my crew. If I have a problem with you, rest assured, it will be dealt with. But I will not harm your daughter in order to do so. It's a cheap ploy, and the mark of a man too weak to control his crew, and unless I'm very much mistaken, it's what got him killed."

McCoy started unable to keep the surprise off of his face at Kirk's reassurance. "Now, mind you, you will obey my orders. That hasn't changed since the moment you were assigned to this ship. But, I think you'll find your mission a bit less distasteful here. As I've said, I will not harm your child, nor will I use the threat of harm against her to ensure your obedience. I'll also not require you to torture or attend interrogation sessions should you not wish to. From observing your behavior since you've been on the Enterprise, it appears that you don't find such activities enjoyable."

McCoy noted a lack of judgment in Kirk's tone, and pondered the enigma that was his new captain before replying cautiously. "No, not particularly, sir."

Kirk nodded slightly. "I thought as much, and may I gather that you'd rather be fixing people than extracting information from them in your Med Bay?"

McCoy paused and blinked. No one in Starfleet had ever flat out asked him if he'd rather be a healer. He'd proven that he could and would torture if needed, but still his heart hammered in his throat as he answered. "Yes, sir."

Kirk shrugged, and gave a dismissive hand gesture. "Very well. You are not required to supervise or attend interrogation sessions."

"Why would you do this for me?" McCoy looked at him warily.

"Because, Doctor, your former captain was an idiot in more than one way. I have an entire ship full of people at my disposal who greatly enjoy breaking people. I have one solitary soul who wants to fix them. Seems like it makes more sense to let you do what you're good at, and enjoy. Meanwhile I'll save the duties you find distasteful for those who would see them as rewards not punishments. Make sense?"

McCoy looked at Kirk who was lounging in his chair now that business was done, with his half empty rocks glass dangling from one hand. "Yes, sir, I suppose it does."

"Well then, you're free to go then. Let me know if you're short on any supplies for Med Bay, and I'll see they're on the next supply ship."

"Yes sir, I'll do that." McCoy finished his bourbon, and rose. He was sure that Kirk wasn't actually going to let him leave. As he headed for the door, he felt the weight of Kirk's stare, and did his best to hide his flinch when Kirk interrupted him.

"And McCoy, one last thing." He turned around facing Kirk, fully expecting the price for the kind treatment he'd received this evening to be extracted. "Unlike your last Captain, I find Regulation 21B459 subsection C, distasteful. If you end up in my bed, it'll be because you want to be there."

"I understand, sir." McCoy did his best not to stammer. He wasn't going to have to torture, he wasn't going to have to warm Kirk's bed, he actually got to practice medicine. This was perhaps the cruelest dream that he'd ever had, because eventually, he was going to wake up back on the Farragut, underneath his foul troll of a Captain. No one got this lucky, particularly not Leonard McCoy.

Kirk smiled, and dismissed him with a casual. "Have a pleasant evening, doctor." And if he smiled when he saw the security footage of McCoy slumping against the wall outside his quarters catching his breath and trying to wrap his head around the evening's events, well no one needed to know that.

AN: In case you haven't read Through A Mirror Darkly, Regulation 21B459 subsection C, essentially gives the Captain free use of any of his crew members. I won't promise frequent updates on this story, as I really did intend this to be a one shot, but as I said, what Kirk wants…As always if you enjoyed, please do let me know.

Next up: Kirk comes a courting.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I own nothing interesting. All I've got is my bones, must be why I like McCoy so much.

AN: Apparently I am incapable of writing a one shot for these two. But this Kirk wanted to get his hands on his McCoy, and who am I to say no to Kirk?

Where I Used to Have a Heart

Teris Xenite

Kirk allowed McCoy a few days to become comfortable in his new role. He allowed a few interrogations, and even an execution to go by without McCoy's presence. He approved without modification the supply list that McCoy forwarded him. And then after a few days passed, Kirk invited him to dine with him. He smiled with the carefully worded deferral arrived, citing an inability to get away from his duties.

Another invitation was issued, another was refused, and Kirk began to plot. He began to make McCoy aware of his presence in a multitude of small ways. A bottle of fine bourbon in his quarters, a favorite nurse excused from an interrogation session, but still no response from the good doctor. Finally, in a moment of characteristic boldness, he waited until McCoy was scheduled for surgery, and set up a meal in his office. He knew that McCoy always returned to his office after he completed an operation, so that he could make the appropriate annotations to the patients chart.

The look of surprise on McCoy's face as he entered his office was priceless, and only an inkling of the unsettledness that McCoy surely felt showed in his eyes. "Something that I can do for you, Captain?"

"I've invited you to join me for a meal so that we could become better acquainted. Since it seems that you can't get away from your post, I decided to come to you. I'm sure you must be hungry, that was a long work day." He resisted the urge to smirk as McCoy seemed to be momentarily rendered speechless. "Make no mistake, Doctor, your dedication to your duties pleases me. But a man has needs, and I know for a fact you haven't eaten in more than 12 hours. So, go make the annotations to your patient's chart if you must, but then you will be having dinner with me."

"Yes, sir." McCoy sat behind his desk, and entered the updates to his patient's chart while attempting to surreptitiously determine Kirk's mood. After McCoy finished making his notations, he turned back to Kirk and the meal that was arranged on his desk. Kirk smiled pleasantly, and McCoy was at a loss. His former captain had never fed him before he'd fucked him, and Kirk seemed to genuinely want to _talk_ to him.

Kirk removed the temperature control dome from his plate and gave it a quick scan before spreading his napkin over his lap, and picking up his fork. "So tell me, Doctor McCoy, are you finding the ship a bit more hospitable now that you've been removed from the duties that you found so unpleasant?"

"Yes, thank you sir." McCoy felt unease creep down his spine at the question, had the time come to pay for this favor?

Kirk raised an eyebrow at the formality of the answer, he knew that something much more satisfying than sycophantic drivel resided in the good doctor, he just had to tease it out. "You got an authority fetish, McCoy?"

"No, sir."

"We're in your office, alone and neither of us are on duty. My name is Jim, feel free to use it." Kirk hid his smile behind his wineglass as he could see McCoy visibly resisting the urge to stare at him in abject confusion. Kirk knew he wasn't following the script that McCoy had for a captain, not at all. He seldom did, which was what had bought him one of the rarest things in the empire. Loyalty.

James T. Kirk, despite all rumors to the contrary didn't rule his ship with an iron fist. Instead he took the best and brightest from other ships, people who were used to being humiliated, tormented, and tortured. Then once they were on his ship, he offered them a speck of kindness, filled whatever need they had. And the fiercest amongst them was tamed. Not, mind you, that Kirk was indulgent of misbehavior on his ship. Enough new crewmen failed to bow to the kinder treatment, and were dispatched as unfortunate wastes of talent.

The kill rate was high enough that he didn't draw undue attention from Starfleet, and it left no doubt in any of the crewmember's minds that if Kirk was kind to you it was because he wanted to be. He intended to be very kind to the good doctor, and was expecting fine results for his trouble.

"Surely after such a long shift you must be hungry, McCoy. Dig in, I trust that we're both capable of being civil over dinner, there's no need to stand on ceremony."

McCoy took the dome off of his meal, and picked up his fork, still trying to process what exactly was going on here. He began eating if for no other reason to have something to do with his hands so he wouldn't fidget. He noticed that the food was surprisingly good, and that Kirk had seemingly better than average aim at figuring out what he liked. "There now, much better. And now I know you're a gambling man, didn't even bother to scan it, not a practice that I'd recommend for longevity."

"I think it's a fairly safe assumption that if you wanted me dead, I would be. And poison is your method of last resort when discretion must be maintained, as a rule you prefer a more hands on approach."

Kirk nodded to concede the point, surprised that the doctor had been able to discern that during his brief tenure on his ship. Though it made sense, victims were normally very good at determining where threats lay. "True enough, should I ever have need to kill you, it won't be anything as cowardly as poison. But I can't vouch for the rest of the ship, you are of course in an enviable position after all."

McCoy snorted and smirked, leaving Kirk to wonder just what secrets he held. "My staff knows better. I've taken appropriate measures to ensure that they understand moving against me would be a very foolish idea."

"I'm sure they are well aware, but what about the rest of the ship?"

At this thinly veiled warning McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Why would anyone in the non-medical tracks give a damn about me?"

"Old grudges, favors for people on other ships, the fact that it's been quite a while since I've courted anyone." Kirk smiled as the comment finally broke through the doctor's wall of calm indifference and drew the expected response.

"Courting?" McCoy sputtered. "Since when have we been courting?"

"Since the moment you said yes to the offer of a drink in my quarters. I said I wouldn't force you into my bed. I never said that I didn't think that you'd end up there eventually." Kirk smiled, then reached over and trailed his fingers along the back of McCoy's hand, only to remove them when he felt McCoy's unconscious flinch. "And unlike with your former Captain, you'll enjoy it."

"You seem pretty sure about that?" The assumption in Kirk's voice grated on his nerves. He may have endured his former captain's advances, but he'd never once enjoyed them.

"Oh, I'm absolutely certain of it, Doctor McCoy. But that's a ways down the road yet." He trailed his fingers over the rim of the wine glass and looked at McCoy almost coyly. "You'll find McCoy that freedom of choice, and a partner that actually gives a damn if you get something out of the deal makes a great deal of difference."

"Ever occur to you that I'm not into men?" McCoy questioned sharply.

"I enjoy a challenge." Kirk smiled and sat back in his seat. "But as I said, that's a matter for another day. For now, why don't we start with getting to know each other a little better? At the moment I know that you like good bourbon, had a divorce messy enough that you enlisted in Starfleet, and are damn talented with a scalpel. Surely there's a whole lot more to you than that."

"Maybe, but I can't see why you're so damn interested. Not like you don't have access to everything that Starfleet knows about me and then some already."

Kirk shrugged acknowledging the point. "Well, I suppose that I could just read your file. But I'd much rather hear about it from you. After all, stories are always so much more interesting coming from their source."

"All due respect, sir. I'm a doctor, not Scheherazade. Why don't you find someone who likes you a lot better than I do to tell you a bed time story?"

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, McCoy, you have quite a flair for the melodramatic don't you? I'm hardly threatening your life at dawn. Suit yourself. You're an enigma, and in a place where so many around me are wholly transparent, you intrigue me. But if it makes you feel better, keep your secrets for now."

Kirk leaned closer with a conspiratial grin. "Might want to reconsider though, things didn't turn out half bad for Scheherazade. She did end up queen if I'm not mistaken."

"Nice consolation prize for only being kept alive because she was momentarily interesting."

"1,001 nights is hardly momentary, McCoy. And who knows what can happen in that amount of time?" Kirk leaned back in his chair and looked over at McCoy considering for a moment. "Since you don't seem to be in a very talkative mood tonight, and we've finished dinner, I'll leave you to resume your seemingly maudlin thoughts."

Kirk stood, and McCoy resisted the urge to back away as Kirk leaned against his desk and invaded his personal space with a single finger that trailed along his jaw and brushed faintly over his lips. The playful glint in Kirk's eyes made him wary, and he realized that his reticence had only served to increase Kirk's interest in him. "Don't think this means that I'm giving up though, who knows maybe next time you'll have a story for me."

McCoy managed to wait until the door closed behind Kirk before he started shaking. What had he gotten himself into? His former captain had been fairly straightforward, and while he'd never enjoyed their interactions, they were at least predictable. Kirk on the other hand seemed to want far more from him. But then, he'd given McCoy far more already than he'd ever had elsewhere.

McCoy retreated to his quarters, poured himself a three finger shot of bourbon, and proceeded to attempt to put the whole thing out of his mind. He failed miserably of course, as his mind kept supplying images of Kirk's hungry gaze, and the almost electrifying warmth that accompanied his faint touches. Sleep when it came was fragmented and his dreams were filled with images of Kirk holding a scimitar in an Arabian tent. As McCoy was jolted from his sleep by the piercing alarm that announced the need for his presence in Med Bay, he cursed under his breath. Kirk may not have touched him yet, but there was no denying that he was royally fucked.

AN: Greetings readers! I would apologize for the length of time between updates, but Kirk assures me that apologies are a sign of weakness (he's working on me being less of a doormat). He will allow me to say, however, that we hope you enjoyed reading, and that we look forward to hearing from you all soon. I should have updates up for Through A Mirror Darkly and Bought and Paid For uploaded soon. As always reviews are greatly appreciated.

Next up: McCoy is both flattered and frightened by the intensity of Kirk's attentions.


End file.
